


Never a Monster

by dfjk0607



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Autistic Will Graham, Chesapeake Ripper, Childhood Trauma, Copycat Murders, Crime Scenes, Dominance, Dreams and Nightmares, Empathy, Forced Eye Contact, Hannibal is Not a Cannibal, Jealousy, M/M, Murder Mystery, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Submissive Will, Will lives in an apartment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-24 18:42:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13817163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dfjk0607/pseuds/dfjk0607
Summary: Will goes on a family trip to the forest and it ends with his parents dead and only Will alive with a blank face. Will is sent to his uncle's house and grows up to be a profiler at FBI. Since his parents' death, Will has difficulty meeting eyes or building social relationships with other people, and suffers from occasional headache that comes with a loud noise inside his head. One day he feels the killer's joy when reconstructing the crime scene and runs to the bathroom, panicked, and this is when his headache comes. Will almost faints and hears the footsteps of a stranger.





	1. First Meeting

A five-year-old Will was the kind of kid that felt things stronger both for himself and others. Strangely he seemed to be very compassionate for a child of his own age, helping his parents out at proper times without being asked, finding out the man who claimed to be was not truly the owner of the wallet he picked up in the street, and even shedding tears in a funeral of someone he never encountered. He was bright indeed at such a young age and his parents saw a great possibility in him, always taking good care of dear Will. 

It was in the December of Will’s fifth year in life that familial happiness ended.

One day the whole family went on a picnic to a rather deserted camping site in the forest, and the next day Will was the only one found alive. When he was found, Will was clean, not a hint of blood or dirt on him, and he looked like a statue sitting on a rock near the bodies of his parents, face white. No pain, no shock, no emotion like he was wiped out from the very inside of him, a white paper. Being the only witness of the case he was asked all sorts of questions about what happened and where he was in the meantime but nothing escaped from the kid. He merely kept staring at the eyes of those who were questioning making them eerily uncomfortable until he suddenly stopped. From the second day of investigation, he refused to make eye contact with anyone, no answers coming out of him all the same. Eventually the case was closed with no evidence nor testimony and Will was sent to his uncle’s house. 

The Will at his uncle’s house was the opposite of the compassionate kid he used to be. He avoided contact with anyone, never looked anyone in the eye, rarely spoke and even when he did he stuttered, and hit his ears frantically when in stress. Even his compassion seemed to be gone and when he saw other people in pain or joy his face stayed blank as always. His uncle was worried and took him to hospitals and consulting centers for several years to fix it in hopes that the bright kid would come back and the symptoms are only temporary. However the visits only showed that Will’s condition is unprecedented and hence there cannot be a cure for it. His brain grew normally as well as his body, the hormones and nerves also being fine, and doctors could never place what it is that makes Will show autistic symptoms. It’s like something huge and rectangular was blocking his mind and shifting in times only to hurt him unknowingly. When it hurt, it hurt really badly. Will constantly suffered from unbearably loud noise inside his head along with a stinging headache in the left of his skull like someone was drilling inside it. No pill nor person could be of help when that happened. Over time Will has learned to move away as quickly as possible from everyone else to spare people of the uncomfortable feeling that entails whenever somebody watches him suffer from it. Will doesn’t scream when in pain, doesn’t flinch when he feels the noise coming to rebirth, instead he silently leaves the room.

Will’s uncle and aunt treated Will well, providing things he needed and not trying to take him to the hospital or counseling centers anymore. Even though Will was not social, it turned out that he excels in any kind of academic work when he entered school. He never made so many friends and even those curious ones that tried to reach him were let down by Will’s silence. He was a smart kid, a pliant adolescent, and a college student with good grades, becoming better with people as he grew up but never good enough. He was always haunted by the horror that something dirty and dark buried deep in his mind would show and scare others away. 

He knew he was a monster. 

From birth he was gifted with a tremendous empathy that allows him to see through people’s minds, their feelings or thoughts. Before his parents’ death he could see also joy and happiness, but now he only sees the dark. Dishonesty, cruelty, hatred, violence and all the dark secrets that one wishes to hide. This cursed empathy was the reason that Will could become a brilliant profiler who also teaches students at the police academy in Quantico. People who knew Will would say it is a miracle that he got a job, what’s more, a teaching job, but Will found it to be suitable for him. Teaching can be highly impersonal if one chooses it to be, not needing so frequent face-to-face encounters with people. Recently he was offered one more job of visiting crimes scenes and solving it using his empathy by his boss named Jack Crawford. In other words, he went inside the killers’ mind to figure out how the crime went and what the motives are likely to be. He did not enjoy visiting killers’ minds and explaining it to others because the violent images gnawed at him at nights and he did not want to bare his weird ability to other people. But it clearly did serve a purpose in catching them and knowing it Will could not reject doing the job. Maybe his empathy isn’t all too bad, he was beginning to believe.

Things were okay since the day that was different. At the forest where the crime happened, Will went into the mind of a killer and followed through the actions of him, finally stabbing the victim in the stomach and when the killing happened, he felt a surge of unfamiliar emotion. It was strong and fiery. Will came back to reality. Joy. It was joy. His eyes became wide and without a word he staggered out of the crime scene, into the bathroom nearby. He looked into the mirror where he saw panic and countless dark feelings. Abruptly the noise started. The left side of his head was aching like hell. He couldn’t help himself, he fell down to the floor. He covered his ears then started hitting it repeatedly with his palms, his old habit coming to life again. The pain was more than usual, and he just couldn’t take it. His consciousness was fading away when he heard the sound of the door opening, and strangely calm and meticulous footsteps coming towards him. This is no rescue, his instinct said. Will looked up, almost unconscious, and his eyes met with those of a stranger that carried no sympathy. The next second, he was entirely unconscious.

When Will woke up, he found himself lying on a very comfortable bed. It was a queen sized bed with dark blue covers. Will doesn’t remember sleeping on a more comfortable bed and it is oddly comforting in this new situation. There is nobody else in the room and Will gets up to go outside and find the owner of this house. Maybe Jack’s, Will thinks, but he knows that the bed is unlikely to be Jack’s. It simply doesn’t fit him. Serene yet dangerous, the bedroom told Will, or maybe he is reading too much into a bedroom in his status of dizziness. The house is bigger than he imagined, he finds out when he steps out of the door. It’s on the second floor of this house. He locates the stairs on the other side and climbs down. Only when he is completely on the ground does Will recognize the presence of a man sitting in a sofa. Will is surprised but he is sure his feelings won’t show like always. He does feel emotions strongly as before but he simply avoids the feeling by ignoring it. The stranger puts down the book he was reading and stands up to approach Will. Up close Will realizes that he is the stranger at the bathroom.

“Hello, Mr. Graham. My name is Hannibal Lecter.”

The accented voice speaks, and the man, Hannibal reaches out a hand. Will shakes it automatically and is unsurprised by the fact that he knows Will’s name. He must have brought him here with Jack’s guidance since the place was crowded with agents that work for Jack.

“Nice to see you, Mr. Lecter.”

Will speaks looking at Hannibal’s throat and does not know what else to say. Hannibal waits for him for awhile and starts talking instead of Will, continuing the conversation.

“You blacked out Mr. Graham, in the bathroom. Fortunately I found you in time and took you here. I am a doctor, so I examined you myself but did not find any symptoms of serious illnesses so I thought you would just need some sound sleep. Do you feel better now, Mr. Graham?”

“Oh, yes. Thanks to you, doctor.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

The man that he thought was a threat was indeed a rescuer and Will felt sorry, but there was still an odd meticulousness to his every movement that rendered Will uneasy. Whatever Will thinks, to Hannibal, Will’s face would seem blank like it does to any other person. That usually makes conversation difficult, but he feels the need to continue this one.

“Where am I exactly, Dr. Lecter? I think I need to go back to the crime scene.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Graham, but I think you shouldn’t. This is my house and the crime scene is 10 minutes by car from here. Judging by your status before, it would be reasonable to get some rest today. Do you usually get sound sleep?”

Insistence combined with gentleness. A very skilled conversationist, Will reckons, and thinks that Hannibal sounds more like a psychologist than a doctor. Even though he sees through the way Hannibal is trying to softly urge him into staying, Will doesn’t quite dislike the sound or tone of Hannibal’s voice or want to escape. Usually he runs out of someone’s company as soon as he feels any kind of insistence in his or her words but this man is different. The way he speaks, it’s strangely comforting, like the very comfortable bed he was in minutes ago. Broad, deep, and powerful dark blue. The man in front of him really does resemble his bedroom.

“No, not really. I often have nightmares, more frequently after I started working with Jack.”

Will thinks Hannibal must know about what Will does since he was the one that took him here and thereby must have talked with Jack about him. It’s a discomforting kind of job, but Will feels like Hannibal won’t be scared by it or really mind. Hannibal emits strength, physical and psychological.

“That’s a shame. Please take a seat, Mr. Graham. Maybe we could talk more about your condition to see if I can help you out.”

Hannibal guides him to the sofa facing the one he was previously sitting on, and Will almost automatically follows and sits there, and then Hannibal also sits in front of him. Will is completely following his lead, which rarely happens with other people. He does follow orders and doesn’t go outside boundaries but only at his own will. With Hannibal, Will didn’t have time to even think properly and just accepted what Hannibal proposed. Sitting in front of Hannibal, Will realizes that it would look more awkward avoiding eyes in this position but he just stares down at his hand. Seconds of silence, and it was Will who spoke first.

“You’re a psychiatrist, Dr. Lecter?”

Hannibal seems quite surprised, slightly impressed. Not a bad sort of feeling, Will figures. Most times Will does not voluntarily show his ability to read people but he feels kind of attacked here, following Hannibal’s lead unknowingly, so he felt the need to strike back. 

“Yes, I must admit. May I ask how you figured it out?”

“The way you speak. But I was never certain.”

Will was quite certain in fact, but he decides to hide it a bit.

“Ah, so it is. Is it okay if I ask you what your nightmares are like?”

“Nothing special. They’re different everyday. I just wake up sweating with a bad feeling, and forget what I dreamed in minutes.”

“That’s relieving to hear. I suspected you might be haunted by the crime scenes that you are asked to relive according to Jack.”

“More like reconstruct, I don’t.......”

Will meant to say that he doesn’t share the feelings and thoughts and simply recognizes them, but the joy he felt today when killing the victim, no, when he imagined to be the murderer killing the victim, was not Will’s. It was the killer’s for sure. Will is at loss of words, unable to choose between telling Hannibal what he felt today and lying about it. Hannibal just stays silent, waiting for Will. Will never looks up.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to see you eyes, Mr. Graham.”

At this, Will looks up shortly and finds Hannibal’s eyes looking straight at him. Hannibal is crossing legs and putting his hands lightly on his lap, a perfectly balanced posture. Will feels like a child troubling an adult and keeps his eyes down more firmly.

“I’m sorry, I’m not good with eyes.”

“Oh, please forgive my rudeness. I only wished to comfort you a little.”

“I am comfortable, please don’t worry about it.”

Almost too much politeness of Hannibal was truly making him feel comfortable rather than the contrary. It shouldn’t really, but Will feels secure because of Hannibal’s willingness to apologize and belief in himself that lies behind it. Hannibal really is a strange man with strange powers, Will thinks.

“In fact I had a rather different experience today, and it bugs me.”

“Yes? What was it, Mr. Graham?”

Will takes a breath and answers. He takes the risk of looking at Hannibal to see his immediate reaction. Will feels uneasy right away meeting eyes but starts speaking anyway.

“I felt like the killer. I felt joy in killing.”

A kind of understanding passed through Hannibal’s face. Will couldn’t quite place it, only knew he was not being judged. Hannibal is positively interested. Will wonders if it is normal for psychiatrists to be so experienced to not flinch at this kind of confession. Maybe he is more acclimatized to violence than others, Will thinks.

When Hannibal is about to speak, his phone rings. Hannibal tells Will that it’s Jack and talks to him on the phone. It seems that Jack wants Will back in the crime scene and Hannibal tells him not to bring Will back today. Hannibal hangs up the phone, as composed as ever, and says to Will.

“Would you like to sleep over here tonight? The time is very late and I could offer you everything you need.”

The way he suggests it has a certain connotation to it, Will senses but he dismisses the idea. Hannibal is a doctor after all and Will never got the impression of sexual nudge from Hannibal during the conversation. Friendly and professional attitude, he can safely call it. After all Will does feel quite worn out now and would like to not move too much.

“That’s very kind of you, Dr. Lecter. Thank you so much.”

“It’s nothing, Mr. Graham. Stay here, I will go fetch some clothes for you to sleep in.”

Hannibal smiles and goes upstairs. Will sits there and waits, thinking about how odd his day is today. The shock of what he felt in the crime scene was in fact not as striking as the situation he is currently in. He is going to sleep in someone else’s house, someone he didn’t even know an hour ago, and he feels comfortable about it. Will is lost in thought and startles to see Hannibal standing suddenly in front of him. There was no sound, Will thinks.

“It’s time to shower, Mr. Graham.”

Hannibal speaks with a low voice. Will shudders lightly at that.


	2. Eyes

Will comes out of the guest bathroom wearing the silk pajamas Hannibal gave him. The mint-colored pajamas are ridiculously soft and a little big for Will. Maybe it’s Hannibal’s, Will thinks to himself. Hannibal does not look like the type to offer a night over very frequently and rather gives the impression that he delights in silence and aloneness. Will thinks about asking Hannibal if he has frequent guests that stay late but he already knew the answer. Maybe he just wants assurance that he is somewhat special to Hannibal because Will did see genuine interest in the doctor’s attitude earlier that wasn’t maline or borderline rude, unlike the interest people tended to take in Will that ended with WIll feeling like a total misfit. Will was never the type to welcome company and nor was he considered a good one by others but now he is more than willing to go back to the first floor to be with Hannibal again. 

Will comes down to the first floor and he is offered a glass of wine from Hannibal. 

“A glass of wine can be very helpful sometimes. I hope it is to your taste.”

“Oh, thank you. These pajamas are very comfortable too.”

“Then fortunately they are not wasted. They do look good on you, Mr. Graham.”

“Will, please.”

The words come out abruptly. Will simply felt it unreasonable to be wearing the man’s pajamas in his very house and be called ‘Mr. Graham.’ Hannibal’s polite face turns into a soft smile and he grabs another glass of wine for himself.

“I’d be happy to oblige, Will. You can also call me Hannibal.”

“Hannibal.”

Will repeats the name and Hannibal’s face is hard to read. It is only then that Will realizes he has been looking right into Hannibal’s eyes. Breaking eye contact as naturally as possible, Will starts walking around the room to avoid facing Hannibal. Oddly Hannibal’s face and eyes linger in his mind.

“May I ask you if you are in immediate need of sleep now? If not I’d like to resume our talk about what happened today.”

“I’m alright. I don’t feel very sleepy now.”

“I am glad to hear that, Will. In fact I called Jack when you were in the shower and suggested that I have private sessions with you regularly and help you cure your sleeping problems. Jack also seemed worried about the stress you currently get from what you do in crime scenes.”

“You mean visiting killers’ minds?”

Hannibal doesn’t answer and Will continues.

“I’m not really interested in private sessions, Hannibal.”

Will turns to the direction of Hannibal but keeps his glance down on the glass he is holding. He knows how defensive he would suddenly look but anxiety was starting to get to him. His left hand clenches and unclenches in a steady rhythm,

“Earlier you seemed to be willing to open up and relieve some burdens, Will. I wanted to help you out.”

“Sessions never helped, Hannibal. Earlier it was just…… it was the circumstances, I think. I was unconsciously seeking psychological comfort from a reliable professional after what happened, that’s all. I am unable to be completely honest and that ruins all the therapies.”

Will feels like a child giving excuses, his words stumbling and spoken too hastily. The whole conversation was getting unbearable for Will. I should get out of this, Will thought.

“I won’t ask for more honesty than you are ready to give, Will. You can trust me on that.”

Hannibal’s voice was calm as ever and Will looked up to meet Hannibal’s relaxed yet strangely piercing eyes again, feeling thoroughly penetrated by them. He sees through me, Will figures. Eyes stay intertwined for awhile and Hannibal’s unmoving calmness eventually relieves Will’s anxiety and his hand stops clenching. Hannibal silently holds up his glass for a toast. Will follows him.

“For your health, Will.”

Will does not say anything to that and sips the wine. It tastes splendid.


	3. The Bodyless Watcher

The wine’s gone and Will and Hannibal are sitting in front of each other. Hannibal suggested starting the session today and Will had nothing else to say but yes. Now Will is nervously waiting for Hannibal’s first question.

“Will, l know you mentioned it briefly before but let’s take it to the beginning again. What happened today?”

Hannibal’s tone is clinical and it reminds Will of other psychiatrists that demanded every ounce of truth from Will. He said he won’t, Will reminded himself. Will decides on keeping his tone as neutral, unsure of how long it will likely last.

“I was at a crime scene imagining the footsteps of the murderer, as usual. Today I had to drive a little longer to get there since it was in the middle of the forest and that made me a little bit more tired, plus the little hours I slept yesterday. However I can’t say anything was so unusual, really. Anyways I looked around the place for clues and closed my eyes to start reconstructing the murder in my mind. When I’m doing that the process of murder and the thoughts and feelings of the murderer come to me but I am not part of it.”

“Could you elaborate on that, Will? I need a better understanding of how your mind works.”

“It’s like being in a dream where someone else is the hero. You don’t know where you are and see everything.”

“Oh, like a dream.”

“Yes, but one I can control when to go in and out, fortunately. When I am done imagining I explain what I saw to Jack, which I don’t seem to be doing today. Frankly I don’t know if I ever will, Hannibal.”

“Do you often refrain from lying, Will?”

“Yes, in most cases. Not because I value honesty so much but because I know I’m not good at lying or hiding things. They say it shows.”

“I can do it for you.”

“What?”

“To Jack, about what happened today.”

“But you don’t even know what it was, I didn’t tell you the details.”

“Still you clearly mentioned your inclination towards hiding it. I am willing to respect that, WIll.”

Hannibal’s words are indeed a surprise. Will watches his face but Hannibal is nothing but serene. The conversation truly is nothing like the therapies he used to have, it’s more like an adventure. Will sits more upright to not lose concentration. He senses danger in the offer.

“You don’t have to do that, Hannibal.”

“If you feel uncomfortable about it now, then we can talk about it later. Let’s continue on the session first. Please tell me about your experience today.”

Hannibal took a step back, Will noticed, but still ready to attack again. Will doesn’t want to push on the topic either so he just carries on, letting the doubt linger.

“Today when I first entered into the mind of the killer I was a watcher as always, but at some point I found myself in the body of the killer instead. I don’t know where exactly. I just remember seeing the killer stop the car, dig a hole, put a living person in it and suddenly I was him. I was the one killing the victim.”

After the confession Will’s mind goes blank and he thinks of nothing. He rests unrealistic for awhile and only comes to reality when he hears Hannibal’s voice.

“In your imagination, Will.”

“Yes, my imagination. But it felt so real, so...... good.”

Silence falls. Too much honesty slept through Will’s mouth and Will feels helpless. So Will begins talking again almost frantically.

“You see, I can read every mind, Hannibal. Not only in crime scenes but also in everyday life. I see somebody closely especially in the eye, and I see everything dark. Pain, hatred, jealousy, discomfort or anything else. It’s only that I refuse to. In crime scenes I have to try harder without a real person to focus on but that’s all, I can see it all the same. I did it only to help Jack catch killers and I feel like some kind of a monster myself right now. I know I am one, but I hate to......”

“It’s okay, Will. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Hannibal’s voice is low but soft, no discipline in it. Will feels his own body trembling and rolling, trying hard to calm down. Hannibal waits patiently, saying nothing. Minutes pass by and Will finds his semblance again. Hannibal watches Will intently and starts speaking when Will finally straightens up again. 

“Will, would it be appropriate that we restart the session now?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be sorry, Will. We are in the middle of a session and you have every right to say whatever you want and show whatever emotions you like. You were being honest and I am glad you were.”

Will says nothing but he feels grateful for what Hannibal offered and the fact that he waited several minutes without trying to calm Will down physically or even showing discomfort. Nobody was this patient, Will thinks. At his silence, Hannibal continues talking.

“Let’s talk about your dreams now. You said you don’t remember any of them, is that correct?”

“That’s right. My dreams fade away quickly and I never felt the need to keep the vision in my memory longer than it must.”

“Then I must make an unpleasant request, Will. I want you to write about your dreams and bring the note to me next time. It seems to me that they can be very helpful in terms of studying your unconscious. I understand it takes extra time in the morning and that it is likely an emotional burden but hopefully it will help you be free from those nightmares in the end, which I greatly wish to achieve.”

“You mean a dream diary. Alright, I’ll do it. As long as you keep it to yourself, I’ve got no problems.”

“I appreciate your compliance, Will. The diary will certainly serve a purpose in the upcoming sessions. And of course I’m keeping the note to myself. I consider one’s dreams highly private. Besides all of the talk here will be unknown to anyone but you and me. You have no worries, Will.”

“Okay. Thank you, Hannibal.”

Hannibal smiles at that. His smile is something beautiful, with an edge to it. Will tries to smile back awkwardly but fails halfway, avoiding Hannibal’s gentle yet relentless gaze.

 

 

Will slept soundly that night without even dreaming. Next morning Hannibal offered Will breakfast but Will explained he must go now for his class and left the house hurriedly with a goodbye. 

At the academy Will was preparing his lecture in the classroom and he couldn’t shake off the image of Hannibal smiling or the comfortable feeling of his bed. Will sighs at the vanity of his thoughts and waits for the students to come, twenty minutes before the class begins. Then Will hears the sound of footsteps entering the classroom. Will does not look at the direction. 

“Good morning, Mr. Graham.”

A cheerful voice speaks and Will glances to the direction of the student quickly, mumbling good morning. 

“Your clothes are the same as yesterday.”

Will stops shortly at the statement. Who pays this close attention to him? He was known as the stern and unsocial professor that students don’t really want to have more than necessary conversation with. Will looks up and finds Matthew Brown, the new student. Even though Will avoids eye contact as much as possible, he remembered all his students’ names, thinking it a responsibility of a professor. Matthew was a smart student and Will recalls his previous report that he gave the best grade on.

“Yes, Mr. Brown.”

At his curt answer Matthew doesn’t speak for awhile but carries on the conversation with yet another question.

“Did you spend a night somewhere else yesterday, professor?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

At this point Will has no choice but to look at Matthew to find out his intention. He’s got more questions stocked in his eyes and Will didn’t want to answer any more unwanted questions, so he makes a try in changing the topic.

“I remember you giving me a very good report last time, Mr. Brown.”

“Oh, you know my name? I’m flattered.”

“Of course I do. You’re my student.”

“You know, I really looked forward to taking your classes from when I was a freshman. I liked your......”

The door opens again and Matthew suddenly stops speaking. He smirks to Will and goes back to his seat and Will returns to reading his lecture material but he feels that the conversation never ended. Will can still feel Matthew’s gaze on him.

 

The class ends and students start leaving the classroom, then Will sees Jack walking in to start another undesirable conversation for Will. Jack was never one for privacy. But Will had to say something, Jack needed explanation and Will didn’t give it in time. Will prepared himself for a lie that might not work.

“Hello, Jack.”

“Hello, Will. How’s it going?”

“Very good. I had a good sleep yesterday.”

“That’s nice. I was worried of your condition. Hannibal said that you fainted yesterday because of too much stress.”

“Oh, you spoke to him already.”

“Yes, Hannibal made a call in the morning. He told me about the sessions he scheduled and your sleeping problems. You really need some better sleep, it seemed. He also asked me to tell you that your car in the crime scene needs to be fetched and that he will do it himself.”

So Hannibal did lie to Jack. Will tried to hide his surprised face, keeping himself busy organizing the lecture materials. His face is always hard to read and he didn’t really need to worry, but it was not only surprise that he wanted to hide. Pleasure was in fact bigger. Pleasure, he didn’t experience frequent enough to treat skillfully. Luckily Jack doesn’t notice any.

“I must thank Hannibal, then.”

“Yes, he is very much inclined to help you and I’m glad that there is someone to rely upon. He’s a good psychiatrist and a good person too, and you’ll find it out yourself in the future.”

“I don’t doubt it. Anyways, thanks for the message, Jack.”

“No problem. I wanted to check your state and I’m happy that you look fine. Also I have one question, what can you tell me about the crime scene? I’d like to take you there again but Hannibal insisted that you get some rest.”

“Oh, the killer brought the victim to the forest by car and digged a hole, put the victim in it alive then shot him.”

“Okay, and the motive?”

“I don’t know, anger? It was hard to figure.”

“Very well. Thank you for that. Have a good day, Will.”

“You too, Jack.”

Jack leaves and there are not many students left in the classroom. Will is done arranging everything and is ready to leave the room when he hears a now familiar voice.

“Who’s Hannibal?”

Matthew doesn’t sound cheerful anymore. Full of hostility and jealousy, Will notices. He doesn’t know what to say and hesitates for a while.

“A friend. Good day, Mr. Brown.”

Will leaves the classroom without saying further. Matthew stands still, face stoned. 

 

 

Will arrives at his apartment building and he recognizes his car parked in the lot. He is here, Will thinks. Will approaches his car and Hannibal climbs out.

“You’re early, Will. Did you have lunch?”

“No, not yet. Thanks for bringing the car, Hannibal. I was thinking that I would have to go and get it after class.” 

“You’re welcome, Will. It was fortunate that I was free this morning to save you that effort. The forest is much closer to my place than yours.”

Hannibal stops talking and goes into the car again, coming back with a basket. Will stares at it, unable to know what it was.

“What is it, Hannibal?”

“It’s for lunch. I am delighted that you didn’t have it yet.”

“A lunch? For me?”

“And for me, that’s right.”

“Why?”

Will couldn’t stop himself from asking. Everything is so unreal, Hannibal being here and offering him lunch.

“I was cooking it in my house and thought of you, Will. A meal is always better when shared.”

“You cooked it yourself?”

“Yes, I take pleasure in cooking the food for myself and people I care. I can assure you of the taste, I’ve cooked it before and people seemed to agree to it.”

“You’re full of surprise, Hannibal.”

“So are you. Can I consider myself invited?”

“Sure, follow me.”

Will starts climbing up the stairs, feeling Hannibal’s huge presence behind him. He feels both threatened and protected.


	4. Predators

The food was very good. Will appreciated every bit of it and thanked Hannibal for the meal. After cleaning the table, Will started boiling water for coffee and led Hannibal to the brick-colored sofa in the living room. Looking at Hannibal sitting on his own sofa Will couldn’t help himself comparing it to the very comfortable one in Hannibal’s, and the bed. The dark blue bed. Coffee is ready and he brings two cups of it to where Hannibal is.

“I’m sorry there is not much to offer at this moment. I don’t have anything prepared for guests.”

“Oh, it’s me that paid an unexpected visit, don’t worry about it. Thank you for the coffee.”

Hannibal takes the cup and Will sits down next to him. Coffee in his cup trembles. The distance between them is not big nor small but it is enough to make Will nervous. If you move a bit then the person sitting next to you will also feel it and the recognition of that kind of connection made Will dizzy. The atmosphere of silence does not feel uncomfortable at all but in order to divert his attention from his body Will begins speaking.

“I’m looking forward to the next session, in fact. I have something to tell you.”

Hannibal looks at Will and Will feels overwhelmed. Will just keeps his eyes down at the wavering coffee. Suddenly he is afraid to hear Hannibal’s voice because he knew he’ll feel more overwhelmed when he does. That soothing voice with an accent, slightly rough.

“There’s no need to make a distinction, Will. Consider me your therapist all the time.”

“I don’t see a therapist now, Hannibal.”

Will blurted out. He certainly doesn’t consider Hannibal simply as a psychiatrist and if he did, ironically he would not have accepted the offer of private sessions in the first place. Will just wanted to keep swimming in the warm pool of Hannibal’s atmosphere, his power, his stability and maybe his charm. What Hannibal thought of Will, was still a mystery.

“Then who is it that you see, Will?”

“A man, with feelings I can’t quite recognize. You are hard to read, Hannibal. It rarely happens to me.”

“And does it bother you?”

“Yes, but in a good way. I wish to know about you. That’s why I wanted to save it to the next session, right now I want to talk about you.”

“I’m flattered, Will.”

“Oh, you’re the second person to say that to me today.”

Hannibal’s eyes make a frown minutely at that but it disappears quickly. 

“What precisely do you wish to know about me, Will?”

Will puts down the cup and thinks about it for a while, and a question pops to his head. A peculiarity he noticed in their first session.

“You didn’t seem afraid of me at all when I said that killing felt good. I was curious about that.”

“You forgot to mention that it was in your imagination, Will, and in one of the mind of a killer. What am I to be afraid of when the only problem was that your reading of a mind happened more naturally than usual?”

“What do you mean, more naturally?”

“Yesterday when I was listening to your explanation of how you never share emotions or thoughts of those you see through, I sensed inconsistency. Your reading of them are too thorough to not affect you at all, and it’s a wonder that you never experienced the sharing before.”

There was truth in Hannibal’s words but Will can’t picture himself discussing the issue further, because then he’d have to eventually talk about the day when his parents were killed. According to his uncle Will changed to an unsympathetic child from a very sympathetic one after the cursed day. Something made him block everyone’s mind from his own that day and Will remembers refusing to even take interest in others to avoid seeing through their minds at all. He was a emotionless child and many wanted to know why from his uncle to many therapists, forcing him to go back to the day and pick up clues. But whenever he tried to think about the day he ended up having the headache, reduced to a incohesive small child. Will was more terrified of how it made him helpless than the actual pain of it and stopped trying to recall the memory of his unforgettable yet forgotten day of life. Nowadays even a mention of the day may freeze him.

“There’s a scratch on your hand.”

Will says in hopes of converting the focus. He succeeds and Hannibal looks at his left hand, turning it sideways in thin air. The scratch on the outer side of his palm is hardly visible and it looks like a trace of being sliced by a knife or something sharp, maybe paper too. It doesn’t bleed but is still red.

“You do have meticulous eyes, Will. I never noticed it.”

“I can bandage it for you. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

Will goes to his bedroom and brings the first aid kit to the living room. When his eyes find Hannibal, he looks lost in thought. Will senses endless darkness but is unable to classify it better.

“Let me see it, Hannibal.”

Hannibal gives his hand to Will, and when Will’s hand touches the bigger hand Will feels warm. Hannibal’s hand is burning hot and they feel surprisingly tough. It’s not a hand for pens, Will supposes.

“How did you get this?”

“I confess that I have no idea.”

“That sounds normal.”

Will turns Hannibal’s hand outwards and holds it in the position for easier bandaging. Will’s grip is light and yet Hannibal complies by completely relaxing. Will puts a bandage on it and tries to remove his hand from Hannibal’s but Hannibal’s hand twists gently to suddenly grab at Will’s. Now Will’s hand is trapped in Hannibal’s firm hand that caresses slowly and Will feels Hannibal’s fingertips slither on the back of his hand. It tickles and Will looks up surprised. He meets Hannibal right in the eyes that look both like a smile and a warning.

“Your hands are soft, Will. Is gun practice not part of your routine?”

“My last one was long ago. I don’t feel the need anymore.”

“You never know. I recommend you resume it for unfortunate events that may happen in the future.”

“Sure, you’re right.”

Hannibal’s hand squeezes Will’s hand lightly before letting go, the thumb brushing past the inside of Will’s wrist smoothly. The odd sensation lasts and the nameless darkness in Hannibal’s eyes keep staring at Will’s own darkness. Are they ever going to mix one day, Will wonders. He picks up the cup again to sip the coffee. It’s still warm.

“Our sessions will be held on Mondays and Fridays, Will. Does it generally fit your schedule?”

“Yes, I’ve got no complaints.”

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Hannibal smiles. Coffee in Will’s cup never seems to flatten.

 

 

Friday came and Will didn’t get any calls from Jack for three days which he was thankful for. Will also didn’t hear from Hannibal for the same length of time and Will never thought of contacting Hannibal himself, afraid he might be an unwelcome interruption. The morning class ended and Will was packing his things when Matthew approached him.

“I’ve got some questions, professor.”

“Yes, Mr. Brown. Go ahead.”

“I want to know why the Chesapeake Ripper is still letting the copycat killer alive.”

William glances briefly at Matthew who is wearing a very student-like face eager to excel in academic studies, but he is never one to fall for that. There is malice in Matthew’s attitude that bugs Will, discontentment and jealousy piled up as if waiting to explode.

“That is irrelevant to the content of today’s class.”

“Still I wish to know. You lectured a lot about the Chesapeake Ripper and you seemed to have a fair understanding of him. In my opinion, he is never the man to forgive someone who dishonored him by making a stupid copy of his artful works.”

The word choices of Matthew are a little strange and Will felt like Matthew was almost praising Chesapeake Ripper. Maybe he likes his intellect, Will thinks. Young students tend to fall for an intelligence that surpasses their own, not caring the moral state of its owner. Even Will sometimes feel genuine awe at the delicacy of Ripper’s kills.

“Maybe he already did but didn’t want to do any demonstration with the copycat’s body.”

“You mean the Ripper found the copycat worthless of any?”

“That’s only what I think and I can be wrong.”

“No, you can’t.”

Will finishes packing and picks up his bag. The conversation is becoming uncomfortable and he can’t figure out what Matthew wants from him. Will is about to say goodbye and leave when Matthew asks abruptly.

“Why do you always wear glasses during lecture?”

“Because I need them, Mr. Brown.”

“I’ve seen you without them. When I first saw you in the corridor last year you were not wearing them. You looked like a beast hiding his fangs walking around with a nervous manner. Able to attack but ashamed of his own ability. Am I right, Mr. Graham?”

Matthew puts his hands down on the professor’s desk, leaning closer. Will feels the young and furious energy he is emitting and feels the urge to run, but he knows better than to run away from a student. Will stands still, focusing on Matthew’s hands on the desk.

“What made you think that? That sounds like some exaggeration.”

Will expects him to be unable to give a detailed answer and waits for this conversation to end. Matthew moves his fingers on the desk, knowing Will’s eyes are on his hands.

“Your eyes, Mr. Graham. They avoid meeting anything yet there’s almost palpable intensity hidden inside. They’re beautiful.”

“They are not.”

“Show me your eyes and I’ll decide it to myself. Take off your glasses.”

Will looks up at the bold remark to meet a pair of challenging eyes. Red, he sees red in them. They are playful but impatient like a newborn beast’s. Will looks away, adjusts his glasses and opens his mouth hesitantly.

“Have a good weekend, Mr. Brown.”

“You too, Mr. Graham.”

The cheerful voice responds and Will walks away from the predator.

 

 

Will arrived at Hannibal’s house at six fifty. He was ten minutes early and waiting in his car when he sees a woman coming out of the house and Hannibal seeing her out. She is wearing a tight black dress and Hannibal a brown suit that also fit perfectly. The woman says goodbye with a bright smile and Hannibal answers with a polite smile and a nod. Hannibal watches her go and puts his hand on the doorknob to close it but then he finds Will’s car parked. Hannibal approaches it and Will stiffly steps out of the car with a note. 

“You’re on time, Will.”

“Actually, a bit early. I was waiting here.”

“Oh, next time you’re early, we can simply start the session earlier. Today was the last time for Ms. Stark, the patient who left just now.”

“Okay. That’s good to know.”

“I’m glad to see you again, Will. Please, come into my house.”

Will follows Hannibal, trying to ignore the spark of jealousy he felt when he saw Hannibal with a woman. He imagines how he’d look like to Hannibal in his old unfashionable clothes and with the stubble that isn’t very well-managed. 

 

 

They sit in each separate sofa and Hannibal begins the conversation. 

“How was your week, Will?”

“Fine, everything went normally. Jack didn’t call me and all I did was give lectures. No headache either.”

“I’m glad Jack let you rest. How about your nightmares?”

“I had two, and I think I already see a pattern. I brought the diary that I wrote in the mornings. But before we discuss it, I’d like to talk about something else.”

Writing down the dreams, Will felt that they are somewhat related to the day of his parents’ death. He wants to delay the topic as long as possible because he is sure that another headache with the loud noise would come to life when he tries to talk about it.

“Is it what you mentioned earlier in your house, Will?”

“Yes, it is. Thinking over the experience in the forest, it shun to me that sharing feelings with the killer was not the only singularity there. I saw joy which is one of the positive emotions that have altogether been invisible to me. I didn’t see positive emotions for a long time.”

“Maybe you always had the ability to read all the emotions but refused to use it for some reason. Will, is there a point in your life where you started to block your mind from seeing positive emotions?”

“I have an assumption. Can we look at the dream note I brought first?”

“Sure, as you wish.”

Will walks to Hannibal and hands the note to Hannibal who takes it and begins to read it right away. Will goes back to his seat, unsure of what Hannibal would think. Hannibal finishes reading and starts speaking with a clinical tone.

“So both of your dreams took place in the forest at night. One day you saw two corpses that you couldn’t identify, another day you saw a man holding a gun ready to fire it.”

“That’s right, and I think they are related to a certain event that happened when I was five.”

Will feels the starting of the headache and the distant noise coming at him but continues on speaking regardless.

“My family went on a camping trip to the forest and the next morning my parents were found dead and I heard that I was sitting on a rock nearby......”

Will hears the loud noise inside that’s deafening him and the headache feels like it’s splitting his head in half. 

“Excuse me, Hannibal.”

Will barely says the words and tries to stagger out of Hannibal’s sight desperately, but Hannibal is next to him in no time. His body gets turned to face Hannibal, each hand grabbing Will’s upper arms and keeping him in place. Will tries to move away but the firm grip doesn’t let go. Will's hands start hitting his ears hard but Hannibal holds them down with force and presses his own hands on Will’s ears instead.

“Stay with me, Will. Don’t run away.”

“I, I......”

Will’s breath is unstable and his eyes are widened in shock. All his escape routes are blocked. He cannot hide from someone else’s sight or even derange his attention to hitting his ears. Will fixes his eyes at Hannibal’s and asks for mercy wordlessly but Hannibal’s eyes never sway. Will bites his lips not to cry and just stares at Hannibal, absorbing the man’s darkness and silent dominance. He feels utterly trapped. The noise inside his head gets louder and louder to end with a sound of a gunshot and Will’s consciousness ends together.


	5. Seeing

Will is in a dream. It is dark and he is running in the forest for some reason, a destination fixed in his mind. He is so excited and thrilled in the expectation of finding something there. When he reaches his destination he looks for something earnestly, circling around a certain spot. Not long after he finds two bodies on the ground and he is delighted, until he identifies them. It’s their parents lying dead. Every emotion is erased from him and he collapses on the rock nearby.

Then a vision starts to spread behind his eyes. A man is gleefully looking down at something near his feet. When the man straightens up he hears footsteps coming and looks at the direction. The footsteps are distant enough and the only reason he could hear it is that it is dead silent in the forest. He should hide, he knows, but somehow he doesn’t want to. Maybe it’s his destiny to kill some more people today, and his preys are coming to their deathbed voluntarily. The man hides behind the nearest tree and keeps his eyes on where the sound comes closer and closer. When a shocked voice rings, the killer steps out to point a gun and shoot at each of his parents to succeed at two more kills that day. 

Will wakes up with a chocked sound.

His eyes are open but still he is between dream and reality. His entire body is trembling and his breath is ragged. He just reconstructed the scene where his parents were killed. He saw them being shot. Shock consumed him and it feels like he just lost his parents. His chest tightens and he feels the throbbing of erratic heartbeat in his head. Will covers his face with his hands and a pained sound escapes through his fingers. 

“Bad dream it was, Will.”

Through the dark Will recognizes the broad figure of Hannibal sitting in a chair near the bedside, moonlight spreading at his back. Just seeing the man makes Will want to cry. He closes his eyes and whispers.

“Oh, Hannibal.” 

Will’s voice contains a sob. Having the vision of his parents’ murder was horrifying. The trembling never stops. He curses his ability to read people’s minds that only gave him troubles and hurts. He doesn’t care what time it is and he doesn’t want to move. All he wants is to sink into the deep ground and disappear forever from the world. He had seen enough dark things but what he saw in the dream was beyond everything. Will just can’t take it. He hates himself for seeing it.

“Take it from me, Hannibal. Please, I don’t want to see anything anymore.”

Will pleads with a weak voice, knowing it is for nothing. Nothing’s ever going to change who he is and he can’t be fixed. He is condemned for a lifetime.

“Will, what did you see?”

Hannibal’s voice is calm as ever, seemingly unaffected by Will’s extreme distress. Will takes deep breaths to steady himself, every breath ending with a tremble.

“My, hmm, my...... My parents. Dead.”

Will’s voice cracks at the last word and he continues on nonetheless. Speaking it out doesn’t relieve anything but still, it distracts him at least. 

“And I reconstructed their murder automatically. Like it was a fucking crime scene, for god’s sake.”

Will feels like screaming but he can’t, as if there is a lump in his throat. He laughs bitterly, murmuring to himself.

“I am a monster.” 

“You are never a monster, Will.” 

The response comes right away. Will says nothing, unable to shake off the vision of his parents being killed. He stares blankly at the ceiling listening to Hannibal’s soothing voice like a song that is being played somewhere far away. 

“Your ability is pure wonder and I highly appreciate it myself. It seems to me that your memory is returning and that it distresses you in the process. But you are the only one who can figure it out and free yourself of the burden of childhood trauma that has been daunting over your whole life. I can help you solve the puzzle.”

“A puzzle? Fuck it. You make it sound like a leisure. Everything is so easy for you.”

Will’s voice is rough and enraged. He hates everything and his voice contains contempt that is directed not at Hannibal but at himself. 

“No, Will. You are never easy for me.”

A serene answer follows and Will opens his eyes to be surprised at what he saw. Hannibal’s posture is upright, his hands placed gently on his lap and he doesn’t seem to mind the malice in Will’s words. His figure is surrounded by soft moonlight and his face is shaded, there being a mysterious beauty. 

“Maybe I should ask you to sleep here tonight, Will. I can’t let you alone in your current state of instability.”

Will puts on a feeble smile at the request. Hannibal is being absurdly polite.

“It should be me asking for that, not you. I’m relying too much on you already and you are always so willing to help.”

Hannibal is impossible. His sophisticated manners, physical strength, unwavering self-control and even a good heart. Will can’t understand the existence of such man. Can Hannibal be real?

“Will, I must say that having your company has become the utmost pleasure for me. It’s a wonder how fond I am of you when we’ve met only a few days ago.”

“You are hard to believe.”

Will uses his arms to sit up on the bed and leans his back against the headboard, trying to awaken his mind better. Hannibal waits for Will to sit and starts speaking.

“No lie is coming out from me, Will. I feel protective of you, although I know you are a more able man than most people. You have a rather strong physique and your defense system is elaborately built. Yet a small touch to the right spot can disrupt everything.”

At Hannibal’s words, Will acknowledges that he truly let Hannibal in. The analysis is more correct than Will likes to believe and it makes him feel like the only one naked in the room. He feels humiliated and irrational anger rises at his bared weakness.

“You do have a firm grasp, doctor. I’ll give you that. But don’t think that I let others see me in this kind of fragile state. I showed it only to you and that is what allows you the chance to get into me.”

Will spits his words out rapidly and regrets them almost instantly, realizing that he flared up for no reason but his pride. Will’s face flushes and he sweeps his hair up in frustration.

Awkward seconds pass by and Will sighs to himself. Hannibal said he could be honest but Will is acting too much like a spoiled child. Then he notices Hannibal’s left hand that he treated several days ago and reaches for it hesitantly. Hannibal takes this immature form of apology, silently giving his hand. When Will’s hand touches Hannibal’s, he feels the burning heat he might have missed. 

“Is it healed now?”

Will turns Hannibal’s hand outwards and checks the outer palm but there is no bandage to be seen.

“Thanks to you, Will.”

“That’s nice.”

Will doesn’t want to let go of Hannibal’s hand and keep holding, examining it. He remembers how the strong hand captured his in a flash and brushed it without asking for permission. The memory exhilarates Will and he unconsciously caresses the bigger hand.

“What are you looking for, Will?”

Will startles at Hannibal’s voice and retreats his hand immediately. Hannibal watches his hand move away and speaks again in a light tone.

“Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

Will feels a quiver of excitement run through him. He tentatively lifts his eyes and they meet directly with Hannibal’s tranquil eyes. 

No, they only feign tranquility.

There is something burning beneath, a ferocious desire that can’t be classified as lust. Too possessive and destructive for that. Will is seeing through Hannibal for the first time. Hannibal was never a pool for Will to swim in, he was the deep sea that hides its vast waves and Will was bound to get lost in the endless dark blue. There was nothing safe about Hannibal. In front of Will there was a man who wouldn’t mind doing anything to get what he wants, who has cruelty beyond normal people’s and the power to execute whatever he wants.

“Hannibal, I think I see death in your eyes.”

For now curiosity overpowers fear and Will cannot take his eyes off Hannibal, a whole new world of darkness spread in front of him. Hannibal’s world is pure dark and there is no doubt to taint its integrity. Nothing that exists is denied and everything is balanced in it. Will feels glorious and fearful at the same time and he is somewhat drawn to the idea of being a part of the world to share the sense of fullness.

Hannibal smiles at Will but it is no longer polite. The little twitch is unsympathetic and it represents a warning sign for Will, but Will doesn’t run away. They see through each other and both of them know it. Each uncover another and is uncovered all the same. The beauty of it mesmerizes Will and he smiles back at Hannibal. Hannibal leans closer slowly, not breaking eye contact, and grabs the nape of Will’s neck securely. Will doesn’t resist. 

 

Moonlight falls onto the figure of two dark creatures eating away each other’s breaths.

 

 

The next morning Will wakes up fully clothed and Hannibal is gone. He remembers last night, kissing Hannibal and drowning in sleep after that. Will stays in bed for a while to get a grasp of reality and slowly steps out of the bedroom, goes to the guest bedroom to wash his face and mouth. After washing he looks in the mirror, but the reflection looks the same as any other day. 

Will goes downstairs to look for Hannibal and automatically follows the delicious smell floating in the air. He ends up in the kitchen where Hannibal is stirring something in the pan. Will notices him wearing a dark red shirt and black pants. The sight of him makes Will bite his lips. Upon hearing Will’s footsteps, Hannibal turns to him and greets him with a grin.

“Good morning, Will. Breakfast is almost ready.”

His voice is clear and there is no trace of sleep there. Will sits at the table that is already set, wondering what time he would have waken up to dress up completely and prepare breakfast. He also wonders if he will ever get to see Hannibal completely undone.

 

During breakfast, Hannibal acts no different from before last night and neither does Will who is almost as composed as Hannibal, feeling comfortable. Looking at Hannibal’s eyes is still difficult but he seems to manage it better now. After doing the dishes Will goes to Hannibal to tell him he has to go, and Hannibal grins at him, putting his hand on Will’s shoulder. Then his thumb moves smoothly to Will’s throat to rub at it in circles and Will lifts his chin up in response. He can’t see where it’s going at and swallows hard in nervousness. Hannibal feels it on his thumb and smiles with satisfaction. It was a threat.

“What is the hurry, dear.”

“I’m required at the academy, Hannibal.”

“On Saturday? That’s a shame.”

“The office hour is on Saturdays. But I guess no one will come.”

Right after he says no one will come, Will is reminded of Matthew and thinks that he may be there today. Hannibal catches Will slipping into thought and slides his hand slowly upwards till his thumb rests on Will’s right ear. He gives it a slight rub and Will flinches, his eyes getting bigger at the weird sensation coming up from his spine. Will focuses on Hannibal and sees readiness for cruelty pass through his eyes.

“What’s his name, Will?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m going.”

Will puts a hand on Hannibal’s and takes it down. There is no need for trouble and he wants neither Hannibal nor Matthew hurt. Last night he definitely saw a man who does not care about killing, no moral to stop him from actually executing it. That separates him from Will and in fact Will found that to be appealing, but he can never be immune to the idea of people around him getting hurt. Especially Hannibal. So Will tries changing the topic.

“Do you have any plans for this evening?”

“None I cannot cancel.”

Will makes an approving sound at the surety in his voice. Hearing it pleases Will, who came to like the thick vibe of Hannibal’s assurances. 

“I know a good restaurant near my place. Would you come?” 

“Of course, Will. Thank you for the invitation.”

“See you at six in front of my apartment, then.” 

“Yes, I’ll be there by six.”

Will manages a grin to Hannibal and leaves the house, thinking Hannibal would still be wondering about who he is going to meet today. He only delayed his answer and Hannibal would still want to know. It was true that he doesn’t want anyone harmed, but he couldn’t stop himself from being thrilled by the idea of Hannibal wanting to possess him.

 

 

Unlike Will’s assumption, in the police academy, Will’s office remained unvisited by any students until an hour away from the end of his office hour. Hence Will was using the time for checking the lecture material for next week’s classes when he got a phone call from Jack, asking him to come to a crime scene right now. The urgent voice said it was the Ripper.

 

It was a long ride, two-hour distance from the academy. Driving to the crime scene where Jack was waiting for him, Will was lost in thought. It really was a dangerous game he was playing, being with Hannibal. When he was at Hannibal’s house it all seemed just natural, but on his own Will was unsure of everything. Last night self-hatred consumed him and he was in total despair when Hannibal invited Will to his world without inhibitions, in which Will had no reason at all to hate himself. Alone in the car, he felt the need to review the night and make sensible decisions in the future.

Had it not been for Hannibal, would I have accepted the invitation? Wasn’t I blinded by the attraction for Hannibal?

However Will knew these questions meant nothing now. He knew he would forget everything when he is in front of Hannibal again. The enticement of dark place without morals, compassion or justice was unable to shake off. 

Will recalled how Hannibal’s eyes sparkled when they met Will’s and the darkness hidden behind lit up to finally let Will see it. Just thinking of it made Will want him at his side right away, the secretive yet shameless man. He could demand anything of Will and he will obey. Maybe Will was now trapped in worse hands than those of his ghosts of morality. 

 

Will arrived at the crime scene and started looking around for clues. Upon noticing him, Jack greeted him and told him about how the murder resembles Ripper’s kills, but Will feels something was off and he soon figures that the crime lacked creativity. It was well-planned, thoroughly executed and left no traces but there was nothing more than that. The crime scene felt like a perfectly done homework.

Will looked at the body closely and noticed the hands to be too clean. The victim was murdered when he was conscious so it was likely for the traces of struggle to exist especially in his fingers and nails, the most dynamically used body parts at times of emergency. Will asked the forensics if any DNA was found at the victim’s nails but the answer was no and they told him that the hands were very clean, as if they had been cleaned right after the kill. Will smelled at the right hand first, expecting the smell of alcohol but on top of what he expected there was faint hint of rubber. The hand is the key, Will realized then. 

He closed his eyes to start reconstructing the scene but he opened them again, the vision of his parents’ murder interrupting the process. He breathed deeply and just let the memory pass by, trying to accept that he is someone who can even imagine his own parents’ death. It was like the interaction with Hannibal made Will stronger. After it passes, the new murder starts in his head.

The killer places the unconscious victim on the ground and cleans his hands with alcohol carefully, and after finishing the job the killer puts latex gloves on them. Then the killer leisurely waits for the victim to regain consciousness and starts stabbing when he does. The victim tries to run away and desperately claws at the killer but there is no use, the glove blocking the contact of his nails entirely.

Will opens his eyes again. The first thought that sprang to him was that this time he felt no connection with the killer’s feelings, and he was greatly relieved. Maybe he didn’t go completely manic and the time away from direct contact with crimes scenes did him good. 

Returning to the crime, Will thought that this killer was strange because precision and sense of duty overpowered all the other emotions. There was joy and pride too, but the murder was not done for its own sake, unlike most of other crimes. The killer was waiting for something that would happen after this murder and the anticipation seemed the reason for the crime, as if he did it only to show off and send a message.

The notion of sending a message made something flash past Will’s mind. The use of latex gloves on victim’s hands was a very familiar method. He read it on a student report that was about choosing a crime and analyzing how the police found out the killer. The student wrote about a killer who cleaned the victim’s hands with alcohol after killing but was revealed identity because the traces were still left in the victim’s nails. In the report, the student also stated that if the killer had only covered the victim’s hands completely with something like gloves before the murder, there would have been no evidence. There was almost contempt in the words used against the killer, the most recent copycat of Ripper. He was on the run now. 

Was he?

Will thought of the writer of the report and instantly doubted the survival of the copycat. Matthew Brown, the odd student who has weird obsession and respect for the Ripper and called the copycat kill a ‘dishonor’ would have never forgiven the killer for his mistake. The body in front of Will was maybe the copycat killer.

It was still a hypothesis but Will was fairly sure that he was right. After pondering a while, he went to Jack.

“Will, did you figure something out?”

“Yes, but I need you to promise me something first.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t let the press write about the crime. Keep it a secret.”

“Umm, that would take some effort, Will. Tell me why you need that.”

“The body here is the most recent copycat of the Ripper that we were looking for.”

“Are you sure?”

“We will soon get the DNA result of the victim, and I am sure. The murder was done only to show the Ripper that he is much better than the stupid copycat that made the mistake of letting his traces on the victim’s nails. The killer wanted to send a message to the Ripper.”

“He?”

“Oh, think about the strength required to subdue a grown up man like the victim. I’m not one hundred percent sure but it’s just more probable.”

Jack nodded to Will’s answer in approval.

“But why should it be a secret?”

“I think if the Ripper knew about this, he would try to find the killer himself and punish his presumption. In fact I thought the copycat killer would have been already killed by the Ripper himself but the he let the copycat alive, and a whole new person emerged and did it for the Ripper in the hope of pleasing him. But the Ripper is never someone who asks for help and he would probably despise this new person much more than the copycat. It was insolent of him to try to read the intention of the Ripper and carry on a job that the Ripper may have saved for himself.”

“So this new person wanted to befriend the Ripper and failed in it.”

“Yes, and the Ripper won’t forgive him. I need you to protect this new killer from the Ripper, Jack. You should have him arrested and safely taken to the court. No interruption from the Ripper should happen during the process of justice.”

“Okay then. I’ll check the DNA result of the victim first and block all the press reports of the crime.”

“Thank you, Jack.”

Will said goodbye to Jack and left the crime scene hurriedly. He could not be late for the dinner with Hannibal. When he got in the car Will immediately pulled out his phone and called Hannibal. It was only when he heard the ring tone that he realized he was calling for no reason at all. 

He just wanted to hear Hannibal’s voice. 

Will suddenly got anxious at the acknowledgement and was trying to hang up the phone when Hannibal answered.

“Hello?”

Will had nothing to say. He gasped in a slight panic. It felt so good listening to Hannibal’s voice.

“Will, is there something wrong?”

“Oh, no. I just...... I was in the crime scene and I... I found out something interesting.”

Will was blurting out anything that came to his mind and he felt lost. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Yes, yes. Of course. But not now. Umm, maybe I can tell you during dinner.”

The conversation made no sense. Will blamed himself for making the call in the first place. I sound like an idiot, Will thought.

“Then I suppose I should be looking forward to the dinner. But if so, why did you call me now? I don’t fully understand, Will.”

Hannibal’s voice was calm and Will suspected him to have already noticed the embarrassment in his voice. Hannibal of all people couldn’t have not sensed it and still he was not finishing the conversation. Instead he said something to which Will would have difficulty finding an answer. He was pushing harder. Will felt a little angry at the laid-back attitude but the situation was getting entertaining for Will, too. Hannibal wasn’t going easy on him and that allowed Will to be more aggressive himself. Will smirked secretly.

“I tried to call someone else.”

“Oh, that is unfortunate to hear. May I ask you who it was?”

Hannibal seemed to believe his lie. There was hidden eagerness in his last question, and Will was not willing to gratify his curiosity. 

“I can’t tell you that, I’m sorry. See you at six.”

“Yes, Will. See you soon.”

Will ended the conversation and Hannibal complied. It was like a game. He was losing but he restored balance by making a go himself. Everything he does with Hannibal turns into an intricate game and Will became more and more inclined to enjoy it. It was already four o’clock and he started driving towards his place.


End file.
